Who spilled the seeds that sprout
so eagerly in my empty garden?
Who brought the sun that asks my
love to blossom with such abandon?
My broken heart has forgotten
how to welcome this exquisite
flourishing. My sadness has blinded
me to the radiance that might have revealed
my hopes and aspirations. If only I were
a sunflower, I’d know how to turn my
face to the dazzling morning sky. And
then I would scatter my dismal thoughts
to the busy yellow finches who
flit and twitter and gather so joyously
on this brilliant summer morning.